One hot day in August, Daryl took me into the wooded area at the back of my grandfather's property. I wasn't sure exactly where it ended and the next property began, but before we got to where it began to slope upwards, he stopped in a small clearing. "Been talkin' to yer dad," he began, "an' I think we can build somethin' here, for us, if ya want."

I looked around, caught off guard. It wasn't too far from where the forest began, but enough that it was dim and cool under the trees. The clearing was big enough that sunlight dappled the ground, and I could imagine a little cabin or something there. It would be perfect - secluded, but close to everyone, and much more secure than the camper.

I realized Daryl was watching me nervously, and I smiled at him, delighted. "It would be perfect. But how? I mean, I don't have the first clue about building a house." He relaxed and rested his chin on the top of my head, pulling me back against him.

"I know it's hard to imagine, but there are some things other people know that you don't," he teased, and then more seriously, "I built a huntin' cabin once, with my pa and his friends. They were drunk mosta the time so I had ta figure a lot of it out myself. Didn' fall down, least not 'fore they burned it a few years later when they were on a bender. Yer dad says he can get the hardware, and there's a bunch of trees already cut a little up the hill where someone musta been plannin' to build somethin. We can start with those and cut more when we need 'em."

I stood on tiptoe to kiss him, and then gasped, feeling a flutter in my belly. "What's wrong?" Daryl asked, eyes flashing to where I'd pressed my hand against my abdomen. "It moved" I said, and closed my eyes as I felt it again. I hadn't been able to button my jeans for weeks, and had switched to yoga pants and stretchy shirts, but Daryl hadn't said anything about the slight bump and I still felt like I was treading on dangerous ground when it came to talking about the baby. "I've felt it before, for a few weeks, but never this strong."

I opened my eyes and saw that he was staring at me, expression unreadable, chewing on the inside of his cheek. "We should probably talk about this" I said, "we can't avoid it forever." Daryl rubbed his forehead and nodded, stepping back slightly to lean against a tree. "Okay" he said hoarsely, "When d'ya think it's gonna be here?"

I sat on a stump at the edge of the clearing. "I think I'm around 4 and a half months, maybe five" I said. "So if I go full term, I'd have it in mid January. But Luke and Lucy were both a couple of weeks early, so you never know." Daryl nodded. "Yer mom said ya didn' have any problems with their birth r'anythin'" he said, not meeting my eyes.

"You talked to her about it?" I asked incredulously, and he shot me a defensive look. "Don' plan on lettin' ya handle everythin' yerself" he muttered, and I tried unsuccessfully to stop myself from crying in relief. I'd assumed he was avoiding all mention of the baby, but he'd swallowed his pride and discomfort enough to ask my mom about childbirth so he'd be prepared.

"I didn't," I choked out, wiping away tears as he watched me in alarm, startled at my sudden breakdown. "I didn't want to make you think about it, because I knew you aren't really ready, so I've been talking to Herschel a little bit, and I was gonna talk to my sister about borrowing her old baby stuff now that Louisa's older, but what I really wanted was to talk to you and, and -" I couldn't finish, but he'd pulled me up from my seat and wrapped me in a tight hug, and I finished my crying jag in his arms.

"The constant crying will stop sometime after the baby comes, I promise," I sniffled, wiping my eyes. "S'okay", he said, smoothing back my hair from my wet face. "I guess there's a lotta hormones or whatever. Yer sister gave me a book about it."

"You're reading a book about pregnancy?" I squeaked out, and he rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. "Didn' finish it yet" he said, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else. "Last part's kinda . . . intense."

I bit back a comment about how labor was going to be "intense" for me more than him, and wrapped him in another hug. The fact that he was reading a book blew me away. When I'd been pregnant with Luke I'd bought several books for expectant fathers and Raph had flatly ignored them. To be fair, we were really young, but his willingness to let me figure it all out on my own had stung, and I'd never fully forgiven him for it.

Daryl, with zero relationship experience or fatherly role models, had gone out of his way to learn more about what I was going through so he could be helpful. Before I could start crying again at the thought, the baby moved again, a real kick this time, and Daryl jerked backwards as if he'd been stung. "You felt that?" I whispered, and he nodded, eyes glued to my stomach. I took his hand and put it on my belly, under my shirt, and the baby kicked again, as if to say hello.

I kept our fingers laced, but turned to walk back toward the house, wanting to give him some space to process. He walked alongside me, unspeaking, and we joined the rest of the family harvesting the hay a few minutes later.